


It's hard to dance with a devil on your back..

by JoyfullyyoursDav



Series: Never Let Me Go (Twins' Mom AU series) [4]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Child Abandonment, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Past Drug Addiction, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Shame, Sister-Sister Relationship, Sisters, Sobriety, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 05:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14013405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoyfullyyoursDav/pseuds/JoyfullyyoursDav
Summary: Taako and Lup’s mother is still trying to find out more about them. She only knows of one person who knew and loved them like she should have: their aunt. Her little sister.Only problem is, she’s been dead for 120 years.





	It's hard to dance with a devil on your back..

**Author's Note:**

> Part 4 of this series...hope you enjoy it!  
> I've been wanting to write about Taako and Lup's aunt for awhile now and finally did it. I love her :)))
> 
> Title is from "Shake It Out" by Florence and the Machines.

The elf known as Leema entered the Shadowy Wilds. She was looking for a holy man that, if gossip was right, dwelled within. He was a powerful shaman who only appeared to those most in need of his services. Leema didn’t know his name, his school of magic, if he’d be willing to help or if he’d even show his face. But she walked into the woods anyway. She had nothing to lose. She’d gone the official route, above-ground and formal. She’d gotten blood tests, filed paperwork, gathered documents, attended appointments. But it was taking forever, and she hadn’t gotten any accounts from people who actually knew and cared about the twins. So far, all she’d received were dates. Numbers, a few facts. Yes, Taako and Lup worked at this place. Yes, they graduated from this school. But who they _were_ —their quirks, their senses of humor, their likes and dislikes—Leema only knew of one person who could tell her any of that. And she’d been dead for 120 years.

Leema walked for what felt like hours. The forest was so dense and dark that it was difficult to keep track of time. But when she came upon a moss-covered cabin nestled among the trees, as much a part of the scenery as the rocks and trees surrounding it, Leema didn’t feel surprised. She felt…understood. Seen. As if this had played out exactly as it was supposed to.

There was a human man sitting on a stump outside the cabin, wearing a gray tunic, his feet bare. He was prodding a burning fire with a stick. His golden brown skin was the same color as the waning yellow light that filtered down through the trees. He had a long black beard that obscured much of his face, and his feet were bare. He looked up at Leema as she approached.

“Hello, traveler,” he greeted her.

“Hello,” she said, raising a hand. “My name is Leema.”

“Nice to meet you, Leema,” the man said. “Have a seat, if you’d like.” He gestured to a stump near him, and Leema sat down. “I’m Roscoe. What brings you here?”

Leema hesitated, picking at a loose string on her jacket, then said, “I’ve lost my children. It’s my own fault that I have, but regardless, they’re really and truly gone.”

Roscoe studied her. “Not dead,” he said simply.

“No. Well, probably not. I—”

“No. They’re not.” Roscoe smiled again—Leema could tell by the way his beard twitched.

“Oh.” She smiled, and felt a weight lift from her chest that she hadn’t known was there. “That’s…that’s good to know. But I don’t necessarily expect to find them. They’re…” Leema took a deep breath, realizing it made no sense to tiptoe around the issue. Not with what she hoped to do here. “They’re the Twins,” she said, “from the stories. Part of the Seven Birds.”

Roscoe raised his eyebrows. “Ah,” he said, and that was all.

“I came to you,” Leema explained, “because I’m desperate to speak to someone who knew my children. Really knew them. I’ve been struggling to find anyone because…well, so many reasons. Most of my family is dead or moved on. I haven’t known where to turn.”

“But you do have someone in mind,” Roscoe pointed out. “Someone who could answer your questions.”

Leema nodded. “Yes. My sister, Dwyn. She…knew them.” _Loved them. Took care of them. Kissed their scraped knees, felt their foreheads when they were sick._ Despite her resolution just moments ago not to hold back, Leema left these things unsaid. She was ashamed of all that her sister must have done because she wouldn’t. The shame momentarily choked her.

Roscoe only nodded, holding up a hand, and said, “Wait here.” He stood up and made his way into his cabin, returning a few minutes later with an armful of supplies. He got to work around the fire, lighting several bushels of incense, which glowed orange and sent plumes of thick smoke up toward the canopy of leaves above them. He took a pinch of silver powder out of a bag and tossed it on the fire, turning the flames violently pink. “Think of your sister,” Roscoe told Leema.

She closed her eyes and pictured Dwyn’s face, but it was pained, twisted up with disappointment. She took a deep breath and tried again; this time, there were tears on Dwyn’s face, and this distressed Leema to the point where she opened her eyes again. Roscoe was studying her carefully.

“You need to let go,” he advised. “Just let go of all of that.”

“I…I don’t know how,” Leema said.

He smiled, and she felt a warmth spread throughout her. “Sure you do,” he said. Leema took another deep breath, and Roscoe reached forward, snapping his fingers near her face. She felt herself let go, just as Roscoe said she should. And then everything went dark.

And when Leema opened her eyes again, she saw her little sister. Dwyn was sitting cross-legged on the forest floor and stood up, smiling, as Leema approached. She looked the same as Leema remembered: freckled olive skin, a crown of inky black curls atop her head. Young and healthy and beautiful, not sick, not suffering. Dwyn opened her arms wide and pulled Leema close. “Leema,” she said.

“Dwynnie,” Leema whispered, hugging her tightly. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Dwyn replied, pulling back and grasping Leema by the shoulders, looking her over. “You look good.”

“I am,” Leema replied. And she knew—as she always knew—what her sister was _really_ saying. Until her vices completely took over, she and Dwyn had been extremely close. Their closeness had been part of the reason why, in her darkest time, Leema had distanced herself. Dwyn could read her like a book. There was no hiding, no lying where her sister was concerned. Leaving was easier. And when Dwyn died, staying away was easier, too.

Right now, Dwyn was saying, _You look sober._ And Leema’s response was assurance that yes, she was.

Dwyn hugged her again. “I’m so glad,” she said. “Come here, sit down. Let’s chat.” So they sat cross-legged on the soft earth, facing each other, knees touching. Dwyn reached out to hold both of Leema’s hands, and they were quiet for a few moments, just looking at each other.

“I guess you’re pretty mad at me,” Leema said, and Dwyn chuckled.

“No,” she said. Leema raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “Okay,” Dwyn continued. “There was a time when I was furious, sure. But I’m dead now, Lee. Death has a way of making you let go of stuff.”

“When you were furious with me?” Leema asked.

“While raising the twins, of course!” Dwyn said. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because of the twins?”

Leema nodded.

“Wrangling two rambunctious kids, who’d lived in ten different homes in five years…I was mad at you.” Dwyn smiled sadly. “Especially because they were _good_ kids, Leema. I was mad at you for missing out. For hurting them. They needed a mother, you know?”

Leema nodded again. “I know. I only recently started trying to find them. And…well, I don’t think it’s possible. They’re too far from me now. But I knew if I wanted to know any part of them, I would have to talk to you. They lived with you the longest out of anyone, you know.”

Dwyn nodded. “Three years. Ages six to nine. And if I hadn’t died, they would have stayed with me as long as they wanted. Maybe they’d still be with me today.” She paused, then said, “They’re really gone?”

“Yes.”

“I’d worry, but I’m still pretty sure I’d know if they were dead,” Dwyn said.

“They’re not.”

“Good. When was the last time you saw them?”

“When they first came to live with you,” Leema said.

Dwyn groaned. “Oh, Leema.”

Leema squeezed her hands, hard. “Tell me what they were like,” she said quietly. “Anything you can remember. Everything. I don’t know how much time we have, but…I want to know everything.”

Dwyn smiled. “They were wonderful. Honestly delightful. Their caretaker before me—gods, I don’t even remember her name! She warned me that they were wild, said they needed a stern hand to keep in line. But I didn’t find that to be true at all. They were energetic, of course. And scared and mistrustful and a little devious, for sure. But they were joys, absolute joys.” Dwyn kept smiling as she talked about the twins, and this brought a smile to Leema’s face, too. It was more than she deserved to hope that her children had lived with someone like Dwyn. Who, a hundred years later, in her afterlife, still thought of them and smiled.

“Lemb was louder, more combative,” Dwyn went on. “Quick to get into fights, if I’m honest. Hot-headed. And Teru was more reserved, always ready to hang back and let Lemb fight their battles. And, boy, they got up to some trouble sometimes.”

“What kind of trouble?” Leema asked, feeling the familiar hunger twist inside her. The greediness for more, more, more.

“Well, they had that thing some twins have, you know? They seemed to always know what the other was thinking. They could scheme and sneak around without saying a word to each other. They’d concoct something devious, right on the spot, silent as mice. Suddenly I’d turn around and Teru would be halfway in the closet where I kept the Candlenights gifts, Lemb banging on a pot across the room to distract me.”

Leema laughed.

“They were both so sweet, though. They’d crawl into my lap at the same time, and you know, they were such tiny things when they first came to live with me. They’d lay their heads on my chest and fall asleep. I could never stay mad at them long. And they were _funny_ , too. Funniest little kids I ever met. Always had me in stitches.”

“They’re powerful wizards now,” Leema said. “They’ve done incredible things, if the legends are true. They traveled around on a space ship as arcanist chefs.”

At this, Dwyn threw her head back and laughed. “ _Chefs_?” she cried joyfully. “I taught them how to cook! Teru was especially interested in it, but…well, they were still little, after all. I ate a lot of eggshell and too much salt in those years. But I’m so glad to know they carry a little of me with them.”

“More than a little, I’d bet,” Leema told her with a smile. “I wish I could tell you more, but I only know so much. Their adult names are Lup and Taako. And Lup…she’s a female elf.”

Dwyn nodded. “Oh, yeah. While living with me, Lemb told me about that. About feeling more like a girl than a boy. I let them both experiment, of course. Wear whatever they like, do their hair however they wanted. I figured they didn’t have any control over what happened to them, they had so few choices. What did I care about the clothes they wanted to wear? So Lemb often chose dresses, grew the longest hair you’ve ever seen on a little elf.” Dwyn paused, then asked, “Do you know if they’re happy?”

Leema shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, I hope so.”

“Me too.”

“And you?” Dwyn asked. “Are you happy, Lee?”

Leema hesitated, thinking hard. All her life, happiness had been elusive, a small sparrow she chased but never caught. She’d chased it with relationships and she’d chased it with drugs, and after that, she’d chased it with money and traveling and deep, deep denial. All to find herself back at the beginning. Confronting the demons she thought she’d banished. Searching for children who’d grown up, outraced her and outpaced her and gone where she could not follow. Children whose names she hadn’t even known, whose personalities had been reduced to what she could remember from their infancy.

The funny thing was, Leema felt closer to happiness now than she ever had. She was at least on a path towards it. And for the first time in her life, the destination didn’t seem like the be-all and end-all of the journey. She knew there was a strong likelihood she would never see Taako or Lup again. She’d probably die without ever speaking to them. But she realized now, her sister’s warm hands in her own, that she wasn’t seeking happiness, exactly. She was seeking _peace_ , and she’d find it one way or the other. Even if the twins really were lost, she would achieve a kind of peace with that. With knowing. With having looked, having tried, having acted as a mother should. With knowing how this story ended.

“I’m getting there,” she said to Dwyn.

“If you do ever see them,” Dwyn said, giving her hands a squeeze, “tell them I love them.”

“I will.” Leema paused, then said, “Thank you, Dwyn. Thank you for loving them so well. Thank you for taking care of them as I should have done.”

“You were lost,” Dwyn told her, shrugging. “I told them that, you know. I told them that you were just lost and when you found yourself, you would find them too.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to,” Leema admitted. “I’m sorry if I fail and make a liar out of you.”

Dwyn laughed. “Sis, I know I’ve told you this before. But I meant it then, and I mean it now. I think you need a god’s help.”

Leema opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly felt herself pitched backwards into cool darkness. She fell for a moment through disorienting space before her body righted itself. She opened her eyes to see a bright fire burning in front of her, Roscoe sitting off to the side. He was watching her closely.

“Well?” he asked, smiling. “Did you get the answers you were looking for?”

“I think so,” Leema said slowly. “Thank you.” She stood up, began to walk away, then turned back to him and asked, “Hey. Do you happen to know any gods?”


End file.
